Many Happy Returns
by leaysaye
Summary: A Donald Strachey Mystery story. Donald Strachey hates birthdays. Donald Strachey/Timothy Callahan, slash
1. Chapter 1

"I hate birthday parties." Don was tying the laces of his least scuffed pair of brogues.

"I know, honey," Timmy tried to soothe. He selected a navy blue tie from the tie rack in the wardrobe and stepped in front of the mirror that was hanging over the dresser. Don stomped his left foot into the other shoe.

"And I hate birthdays, generally." He frowned at Timothy's back. Timmy smiled at him in the mirror.

"No, you don't," he said, that annoying smile even wider.

Don's frown deepened. "I hate _my_ birthdays," he amended. "I like yours." Which was true. He loved buying gifts for his husband, and watching the delight with which Timmy unwrapped each one. But he hated receiving gifts. Especially ties. And socks. Oh god, hopefully Timmy hadn't bought him socks again. He'd even prefer a new scratchy sweater over socks.

"But honey," Timmy said in his most maddeningly reasonable voice. "Birthdays are for your friends as much as for you. They want to show you that they care."

Don harrumphed. Now it was Timmy's turn to frown. He finished his Windsor knot and turned around. "I know for a fact that Kenny and Detective Bailey already got you a gift. I promise you, you'll like it. Kelly is also coming. And Dorothy said she would, too, as long as the roads stay clear." Don snorted. There was only one thing worse than having to celebrate his birthday, and that was having a birthday one week before Christmas.

"They aren't my friends," he growled. "I work with them. Or for them." Sometimes both. And he knew he was being unfair. He didn't work for or with Kelly at all. Kenny had found Timothy's long-lost sister on his behest the previous year. And if for no other reason than Timmy getting back a part of his family, Don knew he should make more of an effort with these kinds of celebrations.

Timmy looked upset, and Don nearly apologized. But then Timmy sighed. "If you won't do it for them, won't you pretend to enjoy your birthday party for my sake?"

So very Timothy, that kind of emotional blackmail. Don wanted to be annoyed, but one glance into those clever, brown eyes that looked at Don with such gentleness from behind his narrow accountants' glasses, and all his grumpiness dissolved.

He gave a deep sigh, got off the bed and tugged Timmy close by the waistband of his black slacks. "All right," he said and, standing on tiptoes, kissed his husband on the tip of his nose. "But no singing."

Timmy grinned. He looped an arm around Don and pulled him flush against himself. Don could feel him getting hard through the fabric, and his own body responded in kind.

"Deal," Timmy said. "No singing."

"And lots of martinis."

"As many as you can drink and still make it up to bed." Timmy pressed against Don's hip with more force, leaned down and kissed him deeply. His hand travelled south and squeezed Don's butt. But after a moment, Don pulled back.

Placing both hands on Timmy's chest he said, "You're making me late."

"You work for yourself," Timmy said, frowning. "You won't be in trouble with the boss if you're ten minutes late."

It was tempting, and on any other day Don would've given in. He could still feel Timmy's dick press against his pelvis, even though the hard-on was rapidly waning. Today, he was too annoyed about the birthday thing to feel very amorous. "Kenny and I have lots on." He wriggled out of Timmy's embrace. "And since you want me back in time for that party…" He snatched his warmest winter coat up off the bed and headed for the door.

"Don't be late," Timmy called after him. Don waved at him without looking around. Timmy added, "Love you!"

"Love you, too," Don echoed, grudgingly.


	2. Chapter 2

The disabled parking space outside Don's office was taken. _Just great, happy birthday to me._ Scowling, he let his brand-new Corvette roll along behind the parked cars until he found an empty spot. Kenny had rented him a Corvette when Don's own car had been taken as police evidence, and Don had fallen in love with that car. It had taken several months of working for affluent clients and Timmy's gentle persuasion before Don had decided to purchase a second-hand model of the same make for himself.

He got out and locked the Corvette with the remote. Looking at the car reminded Don what a nice man Timmy was, convincing him that it was okay to treat himself sometimes and not batting an eye at the price tag. His irritation with birthdays melted away. But as he hurried along the icy sidewalk in the freezing wind he couldn't help wondering what all those cars were doing here in front of the tiny mixed-use building that housed a café, a launderette and a couple of cheap office units above them.

"Why all those cars?" Don asked as soon as he got through the door. Kenny Kwong was sitting at his desk, eating some kind of bran muffin.

"The mattress place across the street is having a sale," Kenny said, still chewing. He added thoughtfully, "I could do with a new mattress, but how would I get it home…" All of a sudden, his face changed from puzzled to excited. He turned his swivel chair around and picked up a small cake with white frosting from a shelf screwed onto the wall. A single baby-blue candle sat in the middle. Kenny lit it, then held the cake up for Don, beaming. "Happy birthday!"

"How did you know?" Don asked, but then remembered. Timmy had invited Kenny to the party.

"Timothy told me," Kenny confirmed. Don took the cake, trying to smile. Kenny looked pleased. "Blow out the candle and make a wish!"

Don glared at him, but complied. Well, he blew out the candle, anyway. Kenny held up a paper cup. "Here. Don't worry, it's actual coffee."

"Well, thanks, Kenny," Don said, somewhat mollified by that development. He took the cake and the coffee and started for his office. Maybe birthdays weren't so bad.

"What do you want me to bring tonight?" Kenny called after him.

"Uh, bring?" Don asked, bemused.

"For your party, remember?" Kenny said, impatient. "I could make a bigger cake?"

Don nodded. "Sure, sounds fine." He didn't have the heart to tell Kenny that he'd much rather have a bottle of nice vermouth. Being tactful turned out to be the right decision. Kenny's grin was wider than ever.

"Then can I leave a little early today? I need to buy the ingredients."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Don replied. This birthday talk was getting on his nerves again. He closed the door to the inner office and sat the cake down on his desk. It _was_ nice of Kenny to make him that. Don took a sip of coffee. And to bring him real coffee instead of the bee pollen nonsense he favored.

With a sigh, Don shrugged off his jacket and dropped into his office chair. Why did he hate his own birthday? He didn't really know, other than he hated being fussed over.

And why was everyone trying to make him feel bad about not wanting to have a party? They were unnecessary and a waste of time. Don pulled open the bottom drawer on his filing cabinet and put the cake inside, first making sure Kenny wasn't looking through the window that connected the inner and outer office.

Deciding to forget all about birthdays until he had to head home, Don switched on his computer.

He hadn't exactly been truthful to Timmy. There was no urgency to the job he and Kenny were currently doing. They were performing background checks for the HR department of a large financial company, making sure potential new employees had no dark spots on their resumes, or skeletons in their closets, proverbial or real. It was boring work, but at least it wasn't injurious to life and limb. And Don could stay indoors, where it was warm. How he hated the winter in northern New York State!

He should've given in to Timmy's urging to have sex before they went to work. It was his birthday, after all. Timmy should've tried harder to convince him. No, that wasn't fair. Timmy had tried as hard as Don would let him. Don should've just stayed home, in bed, where it was warm, and should've convinced Timmy to stay. That would've been a much better birthday.

Well, too late for that. He was here, and Timmy was at the office by now, too, so he might as well do some work.

He busied himself with the background checks of the dozen applicants he'd chosen for several hours. At lunchtime, Kenny stuck his head around the door. "You want a sandwich or something?"

Don shook his head, even though he felt famished. "I'm okay, thanks." Before Kenny could withdraw, he added, "Hey, why don't you take the afternoon off?"

"You serious?"

"Yep. Those background checks will keep. And you said you had some shopping to do." Don made a shooing motion. "Get out of here. Birthday treat." He nearly chocked on those last words and quickly added, "See you tonight."

Kenny beamed. "You sure will!"

When he was gone, Don retrieved the cake from the drawer and ate it while filling in another criminal records form for one of his client's new employees. The cake was chocolate, and pretty good.

Around three, Don's eyes were starting to itch, and he was getting a headache. He thought about grabbing some savory food from the café on the first floor. The sweet cake had made him jittery. And maybe he could head to the city archives for a couple checks he couldn't do online.

Just as he grabbed his jacket from the sofa he'd thrown it on, his cell rang in the coat pocket. He pulled it out. It was Detective Bailey.

"Hey, Sean," he said in greeting.

"Hey, Strachey. Happy b—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Don cut him off. His mood had just begun to improve. He wanted no more of this. "What can I do for you?"

"Just checking what time you want us tonight?" If Bailey was offended by Don's rudeness, he didn't let on.

"Whatever happened to surprise parties?" Don grumbled, half to himself.

"What?"

"Oh never mind. I don't know, around eight?"

"Grand," Bailey said. "Should we bring anything?"

"Your service weapon, so I can shoot myself in the head." It worried Don slightly that that would occur to him, even in jest.

Bailey seemed to find it funny. He gave a rumbling chuckle. "Always such a ray of sunshine, our Donald. I'll call Timothy, he might need something to round off the whole thing."

"You do that," Don grunted.

"I will. See you tonight, sunshine!" And with that, Bailey was gone.

Don slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket, then pulled the zipper up to his chin.

He really wanted to go home, but he also really didn't want this party. On the way out of the office he gave himself a good talking to. Maybe he was just hangry and a big, juicy cheeseburger with fries would improve his mood.

He really hoped so, because he owed it to Timmy to have shaken this funk before he got home.


	3. Chapter 3

The cheeseburger hit the spot, and so, strangely, did hanging out in the several queues at the city archives. It gave Don time to think.

All Timmy ever wanted for him was to be happy. He went out of his way to make sure Don had a great home life, nice food and great sex even though Don worked long hours a lot and often didn't even take the weekends off. So what if Don didn't want to have a birthday party? It was the least he could do to appreciate all the trouble his husband had gone to for him to have a memorable day. And it was one night out of the year, surely he could keep the Grinch inside for a few hours.

Determined to do his best to be happy about whatever the night might bring, Don set off for home.

It was just after seven when he drove the Corvette into the garage. The rusty, tin pot car he'd owned before used to sit out front a lot, but that wasn't a good idea for a fifty-thousand dollar car, not even here in suburbia.

Don closed the garage and walked up the path to the house. The fairy lights he and Timmy had strung along the bushes twinkled. This weekend, they were going to buy the tree. Maybe they'd get a white Christmas this year; Don promised himself to be pleased if it happened. And unlike his birthday, he didn't hate Christmas. Everyone got gifts to unwrap, at least.

When Don let himself in, the hallway was dark. Was Timmy not even home yet? Working for the senator's office meant that overtime happened only sporadically, though it had happened a few times recently as everyone was wrapping up business for the holidays. The irritation Don had thought gone for good reared up again. At least Timmy could've let him know if he had to entertain their guests on his own.

Then Don heard the martini shaker in the kitchen, and that made him smile. They could have their first drink in peace, then Don would go and have a shower before the guests arrived.

Don went into the kitchen. Timmy stood behind the island, shaking the cocktail shaker. He saw Don and smiled. "You're very punctual."

"You asked me to be." Don sniffed the air. "Something smells delicious." He glanced at the oven behind Timmy. The earthenware dish inside looked kind of small for five people. He turned around to get a look at the dining table. "Hey, what's this?"

On their best tablecloth, in the two silver candle holders Dorothy had given them the previous Christmas, two long tapers burned. Only two places were laid with their best crockery and the good crystal glasses. The fire in the grate flickered and bathed the room in a warm glow. Don turned back to Timmy.

"Doesn't look like we're ready for guests," he said with a raised eyebrow.

"You said you didn't want a party," Timmy pointed out.

Don's heart fell. "You mean you uninvited them again?" That made him feel terrible. He'd ruined everything with his negative attitude, and his determination to enjoy the party had come too late.

Timmy set down the cocktail shaker. "Of course not, silly," he said gently. He stepped around the kitchen island and pulled Don close. Nuzzling his hair, he murmured, "They were never coming. That's our gift for your birthday, that there is no party." He took Don by the shoulders and held him at arm's length, grinning. "Everyone chipped in."

Don's mouth fell open. "You mean, you've been pulling my leg all day? And Kenny, and Bailey, too?"

Timmy's grin grew wider. "I felt a little bad about that, it being your birthday and all. But you've been such a pain in the ass, I couldn't resist."

Don wanted to be angry, he really did. But seeing how pleased Timmy was with himself, he couldn't manage it. And his husband was right, Don had been a pain in the ass and deserved to be cut to size. So he gave in to the grin that was stealing onto his face. "This is the best birthday gift I've ever received!"

"Better than socks?" Timmy asked, eyes twinkling.

Don laughed, and pushed Timmy against the breakfast bar. He stretched and kissed Timmy deeply, and when they broke apart, breathless, he exclaimed, "You got no idea how much better!"


	4. Chapter 4

For their dinner, Timmy had abandoned his usual low carb policy and made fresh pasta with a salmon cream sauce that featured a splash of the aged Chardonnay he was serving with dinner. While the salmon finished cooking, they had the first round of martinis.

After depositing Don at the breakfast bar with his drink and ignoring his offers of help, Timmy went back into the kitchen to supervise the sauce bubbling in the wok. Dan sipped his martini, watching. Timmy had changed out of his business attire into a pair of soft 501s and a sea-green sweater which brought out his eyes.

"Should I take a shower?" Don wondered aloud. "I was going to freshen up before our guests arrive."

Timmy dumped the homemade pasta and the asparagus shoots into the wok. The smirk as he considered Don made Don's pants feel tight. "Don't you dare," he said in a voice more like a growl. "You're dessert, and I want to taste you."

Yep, Don's dick was definitely paying attention now.

They had their delicious food at the dining table with most of the rest of the Chardonnay. Afterward, there was cake. "Kenny made it," Timmy said as he cut two slices and put them on small plates. "He dropped it off about ten minutes before you came home. I worried you might see him driving away. That would've ruined the surprise."

"Of the non-party, yes," Don said, laughing. Now that he was getting exactly what he wanted—an evening alone with Timothy—the whole thing seemed hilarious.

They took the cake into the living room, and Timmy put on Keith Jarrett's The Köln Concert, Don's current favorite. They finished their cake and the rest of the Chardonnay, and then Don curled up in Timmy's lap, gazing sleepily into the fire.

"Thank you so much for my birthday party," he murmured

"That almost sounds like you mean it," Timmy said, then leaned down to kiss Don.

It didn't take long for the kiss to morph into a proper make-out session. Timmy soon lay on top, his hard-on digging into Don's thigh. Grinning, Don wriggled his hips a few times. Timmy moaned against his mouth. He pulled back far enough to stare into Don's eyes. There was a fire there that Don saw much too infrequently.

"Are we staying here, or do you want to relocate?" Timmy asked, pushing his now rock-hard erection into Don.

"Relocate," Don decided. There was no question about it, their king-size bed was his favorite place in the world to make love.

Timmy pushed himself up, and Don had to fight hard not to pull him back down. Losing that warm, solid weight and the hard-on teasing him was almost too much to bear.

But what was to come once they made it to the bedroom was worth the sacrifice. On their way up the stairs they kept kissing and touching. Somewhere, Don lost his shoes and his tie, and Timmy's house loafers tumbled back down from halfway up. Once on the landing, Timmy tugged on Don's shirt until it slid from the waistband. Don shuddered deliciously as Timmy's hands ran up his back. He crowded close, pushing Timmy into the wall. Pressing his groin into Timmy's, he forced one knee between his legs. They kissed deeply while Don's hands got busy with Timmy's jeans buttons.

At last, he had them open. Don slid a hand inside, past the waistband of Timmy's briefs. He tightened his fingers around Timmy's hot, silky length. Timmy moaned, and Don's own hard-on twitched in response.

"I need you, oh god," Timmy panted. He pushed away from the wall, and Don backwards into their bedroom. The buttons on Don's shirt were taken care of quickly. Then Timmy's deft hands undid Don's belt, and just as the back of Don's knees hit the bedframe Timmy pushed down his pants and underwear and dropped to his knees.

Don watched with mounting desire as Timmy gave his erection a few strokes, then circled the base of his cock with his fingers. Timmy looked up. "Happy birthday, honey," he said. Then he licked his lips and took Don deep into his mouth.

Timmy was a top, and they rarely switched around that side of things. But they both enjoyed giving and receiving head. As Timmy sucked and licked Don's cock, Don marveled once again just how lucky he was to have such an amazing husband. He thought about how much he loved Timmy, and that he would never be a Grinch for his birthday again. Then Timmy moved his attention to Don's balls, and Don stopped thinking.

Timmy had freed his own erection and was jerking himself, while the fingers of his other and reached around Don's hip. He pushed them between Don's buttocks, and Don inhaled sharply as Timmy's index finger pressed against his opening.

"Don't make me come yet," he pressed out between clenched teeth. He took Timmy by the shoulders and tugged. Timmy came up for air and got to his feet. Don claimed his mouth hungrily, then growled, "Fuck me."

He shrugged out of his shirt and dropped it at the foot of the bed. He got his socks off while Timmy did the same. Then Timmy pulled off his jeans and underwear, and dragged the green sweater over his head. He motioned for Don to move onto the bed. Don obliged and grabbed a pillow from the top end, to place under his bottom. Timmy nodded his approval. He slid open the bedside cabinet and pulled out the bottle of slick they kept there.

In Don's opinion, the best thing about sex in a monogamous relationship was that you could do it without condoms. He knew many couples who switched it up in the bedroom. He had no issue with that and hoped it gave them what they wanted. For him and Timmy, being exclusive with each other worked, and had for so many years that Don barely remembered a life before it. Other bedfellows, dating websites and hook-ups were in the past. And so were the condoms.

Timmy squeezed a large dollop of lube onto his fingers and warmed it up before slipping his hand between Don's buttocks and rubbing the lube over Don's hole. Don shivered with anticipation. He watched Timmy coating himself in lube. His fingers itched to touch the broad chest with the dark whorls of hair, then glide down Timmy's flat stomach and follow the treasure trail to the main prize. Timmy's dick was long and pink, and exactly the right girth to drive Don wild every time.

"All right, honey?" Timmy asked. Don nodded, tilting his pelvis impatiently. "Fuck me, Timothy Callahan," he breathed. Timmy obliged at once.

He slid in between Don's legs, supporting himself on one hand placed next to Don's shoulder. With the other, he guided himself into place. When the tip of his cock pressed against Don's entrance, Don's jaw went slack.

They'd done this a thousand times, and yet it never grew old. In Don's opinion, the familiarity only enhanced the pleasure. He knew exactly how to move, when to bear down and when to pull back for Timmy to get the most out of this. And Timmy knew which buttons to push to drive Don to the edge of insanity.

They started off slow, but soon, Don bore down every time Timmy dove into him. "Faster," he gasped. "Fuck me harder, Timmy."

And Timmy obliged. He pushed himself onto his knees and lifted Don's leg onto his shoulder. Then he scooted closer which allowed him to speed up. He squirted some lube onto his hand and gripped Don's cock with a firm grasp.

"Timmy," Don moaned. "Oh god…"

"Come for me, honey," Timmy whispered.

And after a couple more thrusts that found Don's prostate perfectly, Don was coming in large, creamy spurts onto his stomach. He felt Timmy slow down and for a few moments he rode the endorphin high, his eyes closed, his body floating gently. Then he glanced up at Timmy. Don knew what his lover wanted.

"Pull out," he whispered. "I want to watch you come."

Timmy pulled out and took himself in hand. Don stretched until he could squeeze Timmy's thigh. Eyes locked, a flush rose up Timmy's chest. And then he was coming, the white spunk hitting Don's belly and mingling with his own. When he was spent, Timmy collapsed onto his side next to Don.

Ignoring the mess they'd made, Don scooted close and put his head on Timmy's chest. He listened to Timmy's heartbeat calm down, and while their breaths returned to normal, Don hugged him tight. "This was the best birthday ever," he said. "I want you to organize all our parties from now on."


End file.
